


oh no, he's cute

by KQfucker69



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Kiss Kiss Fall in Love, M/M, implied hankcon, shit's gonna get gay and fluffy...maybe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-05-31 19:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15125981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KQfucker69/pseuds/KQfucker69
Summary: Do you believe in love?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hellooooo...here's a kindamaybenotreally lighthearted and romantic 900gav fic for the masses. while i do love the porny side of their depicted r/s in fandom, a part of me is REALLY soft for them and with my newfound love for one (1) gabin weed...i birthed this baby fic...i love the title i gave it bc at the end of the day it could really be about either gavin or 900 about each other...in time we'll get there
> 
> Twitta @hornyforhank

Today is the worst fucking day of Gavin Reed’s life. It had started off well enough with him being on time to work and doing whatever desktop work that was required of him until his lunch break. Then after noon, everything went downhill.

First of all, his local afternoon donut haunt, O’Mansley Donuts, had run out of his favourite greasy, too-sweet donuts. He’d walked in ready to spend some of his hard-earned detective salary on the cholesterol-packed pleasure rings called donuts, but they’d fucking ran out of it just five minutes ago. Gavin almost screamed in the shop but he’d managed to compose himself enough to walk out and throw a tantrum in his car instead.

Secondly, the stupid coffee machine at work had sputtered dead just as he was trying to make his coffee for his self-extended teatime break. It had died on him, leaving him with half a cup of shit-flavoured water. He absolutely could not drink that and had punched the machine out of anger and in return, it spit some nasty bean juice onto his t-shirt, leaving him to boast shit-coloured stains on his front shamefully.

 _Now,_ he emerges from the break room livid, donut-less and coffee-less and dirtied, only to be called into Fowler’s office and informed that he’s been assigned a partner. Gavin Reed has never had a partner. He’s never needed one, in his opinion.

Apparently, the Detroit City Police Department thought differently. Well, he thinks, they’re obligated to their shitty opinions. But it doesn’t mean that he has to take them like a little bitch. No, he’s going to be a big bitch.

“What the _fuck_ is the meaning of _this_?” He points at the android standing tall and still by Fowler’s desk.

Icy grey eyes take the image of Gavin Reed in, the clean eyebrows above them shifting ever so slightly.

“ _This_ is your partner from now on. He will assist you on every case you get. The department has decided that this partnership will benefit you greatly.” Fowler sits back and crosses his arms, body language signifying that he is not up for an argument. That has never stopped Gavin before, though.

“You saying that I suck as a detective? That I’m not good enough?” Gavin steps closer, glaring at the android off to his side.

“The department has _collectively_ decided that you suck as a detective, Reed. Now take your partner and get the fuck out of my office. I have work to do.”

“Captain, you can’t be serious about saddling me with this piece of shit!”

“I am.”

“Captain –”

“I have had this conversation before, once, and once is enough. Refusing him as your partner when you’ve been assigned him will result in disciplinary action being taken against you.”

“Fuck! You know I hate threats like those. Fine! I’ll take this fucker and go. Don’t touch my clean record.” With that, Gavin storms out of Fowler’s office and back to his desk where he sits down so roughly in his chair that it squeaks. He doesn’t look to see if the android followed. He doesn’t care, not about it, not about their forced partnership.

Unfortunately for him, the thing had indeed followed him like an obedient dog. It stands before his desk now, crotch at Gavin’s eye level through his see-through desktop screen. Fucking technology. “Hello, Detective Reed. I believe we have not yet introduced ourselves to each other –”

“Fuck off,” Gavin gruffs out, annoyed and pissed, trying to focus on whatever he had pulled up on his screen and not on what is behind it.

“I have been tasked with assisting you –”

“I said fucking fuck off, you fucker, did you not hear me?” Gavin throws his meanest and dirtiest look at the android.

It remains unbothered, pressing on with its introduction. “I am of the model RK900, and I have been assigned as your partner to aid you in investigations. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” RK900 extends his hand amiably.

“I hated you the first time I saw you and now I hate you even more. That’s all you need to know about me. Now leave me alone,” Gavin ignores its hand and turns away, opening up a notebook on his table and pretending to scribble something in it. Really, he just wants to stop having an eyeful of the android’s crotch.

“Sooner or later we’ll have to interact professionally with one another, Detective Reed.”

“Go away,” Gavin snaps.

RK900 tilts his head ever so slightly at the stubborn man before him. _Very well. I’ll leave him alone for the moment. It seems as though he needs some time to adjust to my presence._ The android rounds Gavin’s desk and takes his own seat at his assigned desk.

It’s the one right opposite Gavin’s.

 

* * *

 

For an entire week, Gavin tries morning after morning to convince Fowler to take RK900 off his back. Day after day, Fowler turns him away while holding up a disciplinary folder labelled with Gavin’s name. An angry, grey cloud follows Gavin around after every attempt. He also gets called again into Fowler’s office one day for a telling-off about how he should not keep pulling out a gun on RK900 every time he gets annoyed with the android.

He refuses to talk to RK900 properly, only doing so in the rudest of ways when they have to discuss work. No new cases have come in recently that have been given to him, so he hasn’t actually had to interact seriously with the android. Instead, he tries making RK900 into his personal coffee boy.

“Why?” RK900 asks, grey eyes expressing slight irritation. After the revolution, androids had been given the rights to experience emotions and feelings. Deviancy is now the new standard for all androids produced after the revolution. The public, moved by Markus’ peaceful revolt, had spoken up against Cyberlife, forcing the company to change the way androids were programmed.

Gavin is interrupting his hourly data analysis on all filed cases available to them with his irrational and pointless demands. So, RK900’s annoyance at the moment is very, very real.

“Because we’re partners, and that’s what partners do for each other here in the DPD,” Gavin replies, mockingly sweet and with a simpering smile at the android.

“I don’t need to drink coffee, though.”

“That’s why you’re the one to get it for me,” Gavin says slowly as if RK900 is an idiot, “I’m the one who needs the coffee. So, go, and get. It.”

“I wish we would cooperate harmoniously together, Detective, and so to work towards that, I will entertain your demand. However, I will not do it again. This is very clearly an abuse of your position as both a superior and a human.” RK900 gets up and leaves for the break room.

“Fucking hell, quoting his android rights and all that bullshit,” Gavin mutters to himself angrily, glaring at the android’s back until it disappears into the room.

Several minutes pass, Gavin dawdling them away by chewing on his bent pen and staring blankly into space. Finally, the android returns, coffee in hand. RK900 places it upon Gavin’s desk politely without saying a word before returning to his own and getting back to his tasks.

Gavin eyes the coffee suspiciously. He picks it up, looks it over, sniffs it, dips his tongue in to lick at its brown murky surface. Glares at RK900, innocently focused on his desktop screen. Looks back into his coffee. It had tasted safe enough. He takes a hesitant sip. It’s more warm than hot but it’s his regular coffee with sugar and creamer, alright. He relaxes, focusing on his work again.

After about half an hour, the caffeine has kicked in and made him feel a lot better. He’s suddenly interested in actually having a conversation with the android, but he refuses to start it. He stares pointedly at RK900 instead until the android notices.

“Yes, Detective?”

“One question: why’s your head so big?”

RK900 closes his eyes for a moment. _Patience, patience_. His grey eyes reopen, and he gives Gavin a wide smile. “Upon analysis of your head, it appears to be a little larger than what would have been aesthetically pleasing to the human eye as well, especially on someone of your stature.”

“Wow. _Wow._ They gave you androids the ability to talk shit, too, huh?” Normally Gavin would be yelling back insults, but the coffee was doing the Lord’s work today. Fortunately so for the entire department.

“It comes in handy in certain situations with certain people.”

Gavin laughs then. This partnership shouldn’t be too bad now if he could provoke the android and actually get a satisfying reaction from it. It would be entertaining release for him, at least.

 

* * *

 

They get a fresh case two weeks into RK900’s employment in the DPD.

“A supposed suicide. Victim is a man in his early 20’s. He was found on the ground floor of his apartment block. He fell from the thirteenth floor, from his bedroom window,” RK900 recites the information he had received to Gavin in the driver’s seat, driving them to the scene.

“That’s sick,” Gavin wrinkles his nose, turning the steering wheel to take a right at an intersection.

They pull up at the apartment, other police cars already there, red and blue flashes interrupting the dark night sky. Once out of the car, RK900 heads straight for the body. Gavin wishes to avoid it but he knows that he has to examine it, too.

He approaches the body and the android slowly, dragging his feet.

“The victim died after he hit the ground, breaking his neck and spine. It should have been an immediate death but,” RK900 squats and extends two fingers towards the pool of blood still spreading from the body, staining his fingers with a red so dark that it appears black and bringing them to his mouth, “He died ten minutes ago. The ambulance and police were called twelve minutes ago. He was still alive but barely so when someone first noticed his body and called 911.”

Gavin watches disgustedly. “So, you’re saying he suffered? He couldn’t have been saved anyway, not within that two-minute window. No civilian in the immediate area is qualified to save someone with such fatal injuries.”

“You’re right, but I was just thinking about how sad it is. It was almost a failed suicide. I wonder if in that moment after falling and before dying whether or not he regretted it. Just a passing observation and comment.” RK900 stands, facing Gavin.

Right…Androids had emotions and feelings now. Gavin shakes himself back into action, scattering the distracting thoughts in his brain.

“We should examine his unit for anything that might give us more information on him and his situation. Security reported someone coming to visit the victim not too long before the incident and leaving several minutes before the body was discovered. The bedroom window is facing the back of the apartments so security in the front did not see the victim’s fall until after they were alerted to it.” RK900 leads the way up, holding doors open for Gavin who walks in past him each time with a haughty attitude.

They head to the victim’s bedroom, taking off into different corners of the room. Gavin looks near the open window where the victim had supposedly jumped from. He scans the area quickly in his usual style.

“Nothing suspicious on the window sill,” he says aloud.

At the opposite end of the room, RK900 scrutinizes the bed. Its covers have been thrown open haphazardly, as though whoever had been laying in it had gotten up in a rush. He places a hand on the mattress, feeling. “A residual warmth. The victim, Joshua Brown, had been in bed before falling.” Picking up a corner of the thick sheet, RK900 pulls it further open, exposing more of the covered mattress beneath.

“Hey, hey, why are you touching potential evidence?” Gavin complains in his nasally voice.

“Photographs of the scene have already been taken, and I have no fingerprints to corrupt the evidence. Besides, my photographic memory ensures that should there be any further need for images of evidence, I can provide it,” RK900 explains as he stares at the mattress. “I see two body imprints on the bed,” he moves closer to the second revealed imprint, touching a palm to it. “Cooler than the other one. Someone was here with the victim before the incident happened, but probably left before he fell. Could it have been that someone that security reported?”

Gavin nears the bed. “That rules out foul play then.”

“Not so quickly. There were reports given by neighbours about a quarrel heard coming from this unit right before the incident.”

“A lover’s quarrel?”

“Possibly,” RK900 straightens up, going to the bedside table where the victim’s phone lies. He picks it up, hacking into it, yellow circling the ring of his LED. “Angry messages from someone named Matthew Harrison. The last few messages received today at 7:49 PM read: ‘You’re still fucking that, aren’t you? Why? I treat you so much better! Just come back to me. Please. You know you need me.’ The final message in the bunch reads: ‘I’m coming to get you.’” He places the phone back down.

 _Matthew Harrison._ Gavin stores the name away in his head. “Ominous, and that Harrison fellow sounds fucking abusive and toxic from the tone of his words,” Gavin rubs at his scruffy chin, “That was around forty-five minutes ago. So, this Joshua guy had broken up with Harrison, and was seeing someone else. Harrison was jealous even though they were over. You think he came and killed Joshua?”

“It shouldn’t be dismissed as a possibility. I looked into the victim’s emails and he didn’t appear to suffer from any mental illnesses that might have triggered suicidal tendencies. No emails to or from a therapist, a psychiatrist nor was he subscribed to any newsletters that appear to hint towards him being depressive or suicidal. He also had several long term plans. Marriage, even.” RK900 continues around the bedroom, looking through the possessions in it.

On the dresser lies a box of donuts from O’Mansley Donuts. Gavin spots it, going over and opening the box up. Two donuts, one glazed with sugar and the other with chocolate. Both untouched. Gavin’s fingers twitch, but he decides that they would be stale and to eat anything found at a crime scene would probably be extremely unethical behaviour.

Instead he moves away, pacing as he tries to piece the events together. “Harrison came over, he was let in willingly. No signs of forced entry according to the cops who were here first. That means the victim probably trusted the guy enough not to hurt him. Maybe he thought Harrison just wanted to talk it out. But the other person was here, too, and that angered Harrison when he saw.”

“The other person may have been an android, Detective.”

“What?” Gavin looks at RK900 confusedly. “How’d you come to that conclusion?”

“Harrison referred to the person as a ‘that’. It could have been him being rude, but the heat signature I detected from the second body imprint on the bed was very faint. Yes, they may have left before the quarrelling started, which was some time ago, but androids also have a fainter body warmth than humans, and the only time they really heat up is when under stress. It could have been an android or a human, really, although my instincts are telling me that Joshua’s new partner was an android.”

“Okay…so Harrison saw the android when he barged into the bedroom after Joshua opened the door for him. The android fled, and the exes started quarrelling. Harrison then pushed Joshua out the window, and then fled the scene himself, locking the front door behind him. Am I right or wrong?” Gavin looks to RK900 for validation.

The android nods at him. “It’s one hypothesis. The victim’s clothing that he died in will have to be examined for any foreign DNA. Further investigation will have to be carried out for a concrete conclusion.”

They finish up at the scene and head back downstairs to talk to the remaining cops before going back to the car. While walking to it, Gavin notices RK900 holding something in his hand. A clear bottle filled with a dark liquid. Had he been carrying it all this time?

“Hey…” Gavin begins then falters when he realizes that he doesn’t know whether or not RK900 has a name, “…Android.”

RK900 stops, turning.

“What’s that in your hand?”

He looks at the bottle in his hand then back at Gavin. “This? It’s a 750ml bottle of thirium, or blue blood, as humans still commonly call it. It’s for me to drink in emergencies where I might get injured and lose some blood, to buy me some time before shutting down so I can continue my duties.”

“Weird,” Gavin replies, giving a twitch of his nose, “Drinking your own blood to survive.” He unlocks the car, pulling open the driver’s door. He gets in and starts the engine.

“We’re built differently from humans, after all.” RK900 stands by the car, not making any move to get in.

“Why aren’t you getting in?” Gavin asks.

“I can walk home.”

“You have a _home_?”

“Yes, since I can afford one. I live in a modest apartment about thirty-one miles away.”

Gavin’s mouth falls open. “And you’re telling me you’re gonna fucking _walk_ home.”

RK900 shrugs. “Androids don’t really tire the way humans do.”

“You can afford a cab, can’t you?”

“I like the walks.”

“Alright, shut up and get in before I run you over, I’m getting tired. I was going to drop you off at the station since I thought you had to be kept there at night but I guess you have a _modest apartment_ ,” Gavin scoffs, slamming his car door closed.

Smiling, RK900 gets in, shutting the door after his long legs are safely in the car. “You don’t have to, Detective.”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m only doing this so you’ll say nice things about me to the captain and get me my promotion, understand? Put on your seatbelt, damn it, and wipe that fucking smile off your face. Don’t think that I like you just because I’m sending you home.” Stepping on the accelerator, Gavin grumbles all the way to RK900’s apartment.

It’s a nice modern apartment. Gavin finds himself a little surprised. RK900 probably did earn quite some money from his DPD job since he was such an asset to the department.

“Okay, get out.” Gavin unlocks his car doors when the car comes to a halt.

“Thank you, Detective. Goodnight,” RK900 says as he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the car door. Outside, he gives Gavin another smile before saying, “You’re not so awful in the end.” Then he shuts the door before Gavin can spit out his rude reply.

“Motherfucker!” The offended detective beats his palm against the steering wheel, scowling at RK900’s receding back into the gateway of his apartment.

 

* * *

 

“Detective Reed.”

“What,” Gavin replies flatly, tired after not having gotten proper sleep from nightmares about last night’s investigation. He sits with his feet propped up on his desk inappropriately, his notebook in his hands as he reads through his notes.

“Last night, you called me android. You don’t know my name, do you?” RK900 asks.

“Then tell me it, smartass.”

“I never chose one.”

“You fucker!” Gavin throws up a middle finger at the android, who chuckles in response.

“You should give me one. Something easy for you to call me.”

Gavin looks away from his work to think seriously about it. “Wasn’t your big brother called Conan or some equally stupid name like that?” He glances over to Lt. Anderson’s desk, which is empty. His android partner is absent, too. _Probably out on some investigation_ , Gavin sulks.

“Connor, the RK800 model? He’s not my brother, just a predecessor. We do not officially have familial ties unless we choose to start a family with a human or a fellow android.”

“Okay, whatever. I ask one question and you end up teaching me everything about you androids. I don’t care. You want a name?”

“It would be nice, yes.”

“Big Head. That’s your name, ’cause your head’s so fucking big,” Gavin states, laughing to himself. “Big Head,” he repeats amusedly.

RK900 frowns then sighs. “Fine. Big Head it is.”

“Detective Big Head. Nice,” Gavin says smugly, turning back to his notebook after he’s had another laugh.

Later that week he gets a name plate made for RK900’s desk that reads DET. BIG HEAD and shows it off proudly to the android as he sets it down on the edge of the desk. “Rejoice, you’re officially a DPD officer now.” He swaggers away with an obnoxious laugh.

 

* * *

 

“No, for real, why the fuck did they go and make you bigger?” Gavin asks, an eyebrow raised quizzically, a hint of a pout to his mouth. He’s intimidated by RK900’s size. Especially when they’re standing side by side. The android absolutely towers over him, his put-together look and icy eyes only serving to increase his intimidation factor.

“I was initially created to replace my predecessor, the RK800 model, Connor, so I was improved in the areas that he was lacking. To ensure that I could physically accommodate all the upgrades, I needed to be built bigger,” RK900 explains gracefully, standing imposingly before Gavin.

Gavin puffs his own chest out in response, standing as straight as he can, arms crossed as if to prove that RK900 doesn’t daunt him. “Hmph.” He turns back to the evidence board, pupils flitting all across the information scribbled on it. “We found the identity of Joshua’s android partner, huh? Your instincts were right after all.”

“Yes. An android of the model TR400. He calls himself Valentine. I found messages between him and the victim that confirmed their relationship,” RK900 says thoughtfully, “They seemed very much in love.”

Gavin sneers. “Love is disgusting. And I still don’t understand how a human can fall in love with an android.”

RK900 eyes him curiously. “Had a bad experience with love before, Detective Reed?”

“None of your business! Focus, I want to finish this goddamn case as soon as possible. We have the address, right? Then let’s fucking go,” Gavin snaps, flustered, stomping his way out of the room.

Puzzled as to why the detective seemed so sensitive on that topic, RK900 stares after him for a moment before following.

They find Valentine at his home and take him back to the station for questioning. He goes without resistance, ready to tell all that he knows.

RK900 takes on the interrogation, leaving Gavin, Hank, Connor and a few other cops on the case to observe the process from another room.

As Valentine answers questions about his relationship with Joshua, he starts to cry. RK900 hands him tissues.

“I loved him, I really did,” Valentine sobs, “I should have stayed and made sure that his ex left him safe but Josh wanted me to go.”

“Why did he want you to go?” RK900 encourages.

“I didn’t get to ask.”

Gavin watches the interrogation, listening to Valentine’s answers. He debates with himself over whether or not it really is possible for androids and humans to fall in love with each other. His brows come together, his button nose scrunching up. _Nah, it’s fucking weird._

“What’s fucking weird?” Hank asks, looking at him oddly.

Shit, he’d said that out loud? Gavin gives him an equally unpleasant look. “Nothing.” Hank was probably an androidfucker himself, Gavin smirks dirtily to himself as he crosses his arms and leans back against the wall.

No, Gavin does not believe that androids and humans can fall in love with each other. Even if an android does fall in love with a human, he just doesn’t see how the human could possibly reciprocate those romantic feelings for a machine.

 

* * *

 

Valentine is released when his side of the story is found to be supported by evidence. He walks free as an innocent man, no longer a suspect in the case.

Gavin still has his doubts, but the evidence points to Harrison as the main culprit to look out for and he can’t let whatever biases he has blind him to fact.

“Valentine confirmed that the bedroom window was already opened before Harrison entered the apartment. No DNA from Harrison was found on Joshua’s body or clothes,” RK900 recites to himself, deep in thought with his chin in between his fingers as he stares at their evidence board.

“Maybe it really just was a suicide,” Gavin says, rubbing at his face frustratedly with both hands.

RK900 turns to frown at him. “It doesn’t add up. We can’t give up here, Detective Reed.”

“Well, so- _fucking_ -rry that I’m only human and I have a limit to my patience, unlike you…you…”

“You, what?” RK900 prods, tilting his head, grey eyes flashing threateningly.

“You fuckers. Fuck. Fuck!” Gavin glowers. “I’m fucking done here for the day.” He stands, pushing his chair back with a sharp screech.

“And where are you going?”

Gavin already has his back turned to RK900, opening the door. “I’m going to get some fucking donuts.”

RK900 shakes his head, calling out after Gavin as he follows him out.

He ends up in Gavin’s car, sitting stoically in the passenger seat as Gavin gets out to buy his donuts. Alone and with time to think, RK900 runs the case through his mind again. They’re quite set on the prime suspect being Harrison, but they had been unable to properly trace the man. The address they had found was now useless as Harrison had gotten the right idea that the DPD would want to take him in for questioning and had simply abandoned his house the night of the victim’s death. Several officers had been dispatched to watch over the house for the past few days to see if he would return home but he never did. He had just disappeared.

Tracking him via his work history had proven unfruitful, too. The man switched jobs like the clothes on his back and apparently worked unrecorded small-time jobs. There were no solid leads as to his whereabouts, information about him sparse and scattered. A quick sweep of the DPD database on Matthew Harrison had failed to bring up any clear records about his appearance or family background, but RK900 had managed to collect facial data on him from Valentine’s memories. RK900 clasps his hands together in his lap impatiently as he finishes his processing, frustrated that the case is barely inching along in progress.

Inside the donut shop, Gavin stands in line, two turns behind the counter. He doesn’t have to look at the menu, too familiar with all the donuts in the shop and he already had his favourites anyway. Attention wandering, he looks around the shop, scrutinizing its shitty décor and dulled machines. He shrugs. All that matters is that the donuts taste good, and they always did. His eyes land on the cashier and he squints at the nametag pinned to the front of his shirt.

 _Matt._ An image flashes in Gavin’s mind. The donut box on Joshua’s dresser. Two untouched donuts. A make-up gift? Gavin’s thoughts are not entirely coherent yet in that moment, he knows that he should at least question the cashier. It might just be pure coincidence, but what if…

When his turn arrives, he steps up towards the counter, placing one hand on it, the other on his gun always by his side, hidden under his leather jacket. “Hi…Matt,” he nods, “A box of six. The usual.”

“Sorry, sir, I’m rather new here. What’s your usual?”

“Two regular, two chocolate, two strawberry.”

“Sure,” Matt replies, tapping at the screen of his cash register.

“Any chance of your last name being Harrison?” Gavin casually throws out, tightening his hold on his gun, ready for trouble.

Matt freezes. Glances up at Gavin once, eyes dark. Then he pushes the cash register into Gavin and jumps over the counter swiftly, bolting out of the shop. Screams erupt as confused and frightened customers disperse.

Gavin shoves away the heavy register, blocking it before it hits him in his gut, grunting and cursing. He pulls out his gun, too late, and barges out the door.

He spots RK900 in the car and they make eye contact.

“Big Head!” he practically screams, “It’s Harrison!” hoping to a God that he doesn’t believe in that the android can hear him.

RK900’s audio processor is sharp and finely-tuned. Before Gavin can even complete his sentence, RK900 is out of the car in a flash and speeding down the street after their suspect, having seen the man run out of the store some moments ago. He had already been on alert.

Gavin watches him go and tries to catch up but all the shit he’s ever eaten in his life is catching up to him faster. He wheezes and huffs and pants, jogging down a block or two each time before halting, hands on his knees as he catches his breath agonizingly. He’s only thirty-six, for fuck’s sake.

“Ugh, fuck,” he groans, resuming his chase.

When he finally catches up to RK900, the android has already pinned the culprit down onto the concrete and handcuffed him. “Got him,” RK900 beams up at Gavin.

“Guh,” is all that Gavin manages in reply.

 

* * *

 

“One last thing. Fuck you, not only for your crime, but also for making me miss out on my donuts today _and_ for making me run. Fuck you,” Gavin says again to Harrison before exiting the interrogation room. “Lock him up,” he instructs the cops waiting outside.

RK900 is at his desk when Gavin returns to slump in his chair. “Guilty?”

“No shit. That motherfucker sprinted out of there and I only asked him about his last name,” Gavin bares his teeth, still irritated.

“Was it a crime of passion?”

“I didn’t care to ask,” Gavin replies, rolling his eyes. “What is it with you and love and passion and all that disgusting shit anyway?”

RK900 blinks. “Mere curiosity.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Gavin warns, starting to pack up his stuff. It’s about the time that his shift is over, the sun already setting real low outside. He can’t wait to go home and fall into bed. Hauling his bag over his shoulder, he gets up and leaves without another look or even a goodbye in RK900’s direction. RK900 watches him leave, noting that Gavin does not seem to have many friends within the department, if he even had any at all. Gavin never said goodbye or good morning to anyone nor did he join any late-night department outings the DPD held every now and then.

RK900 finds himself feeling almost sorry for Gavin.

Almost.

 

* * *

 

A month easily passes in the Detroit Police Department. Gavin hadn’t even realized how familiar RK900’s presence has become to him. Somehow his begrudging acceptance of their partnership has morphed into something he considers as the _usual_. He frowns when it comes to mind as he takes a piss in the men’s bathroom.

“Fuck,” he curses casually, the word having been a staple in his vocabulary for almost his entire life. He shakes himself off and zips up, flushing the urinal before going to wash his hands.

Returning to his desk, he finds RK900 chatting jovially to another police officer. He narrows his eyes at them. “Would you look at the lovebirds,” he says in passing, deciding to get a coffee for himself before attempting to tackle whatever work he had waiting for him on his desktop.

“I help him with evidence analysis as well as uncovering any that he may have missed on the scene,” he overhears RK900 explain.

“So, you mean all the evidence,” someone else sniggers, also eavesdropping.

Gavin whips back around, glaring left and right, ready to erupt. “Who the fuck said that?”

“Quiet down!” Fowler leans out of his own office door, “I’m on a call!”

Gavin’s nose twitches in annoyance and he disappears into the break room. It’s probably his favourite place in the DPD. He heads for the now-fixed coffee machine, setting it up and waiting for it to spit his coffee out.

Someone else enters the break room, too, and from the sharp and consistent footsteps, he hates that he knows exactly who it is.

“What? You curious about eating and drinking now, too?” He glares at the coffee machine as it dribbles dirty bean juice out into his mug.

“I’m curious about you, actually.”

“Oh?” Gavin grins as if it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard, grabbing his coffee as soon as the machines drips its last drop and dumping sugar and creamer into it. RK900 appears by his side.

“Forgive me for saying this, but you aren’t exactly the most competent detective around, based on my own experience from working with you. How _did_ you manage to actually become a detective?”

Gavin sets his coffee down after a scalding sip, turning dangerously slow to face RK900. “Fuck you.” His eyes are narrowed, nostrils flared. His ego has taken a hit. “You’ve got some balls, huh, talking to me like that?” He leans in uncomfortably close, reaching his hand down to rudely grab at RK900’s crotch, hoping to humiliate him.

He expects to find it completely smooth like a Ken doll’s, but his hand closes around something. A bulge. Gavin’s expression falls, the colour draining from his face in shock, and he pulls his hand away in horror.

RK900 smiles at him. “If you were seriously asking, yes, I do indeed have testicles, or ‘balls’, in your words.”

“Why the fuck…” Gavin’s still holding his corrupted hand away from him as if it carries parasites now. His stare switches from it to RK900.

“One of the android rights is the right to have a physical body as human-like as possible in order to be able to be ‘alive’ and live as humans do,” RK900 informs him, “And I have been _well_ -equipped.”

“Do all androids have those…parts like you?” Gavin clenches his jaw.

“All newer models do. Older ones can request for it as an upgrade.”

“What about Connor?” Gavin asks, unfortunately intrigued.

“He’s gotten his upgrades,” RK900 affirms.

Gavin retreats from the break room without another word, uncharacteristically speechless at his discovery today. His hand trembles mildly as he brings his coffee mug to his lips. With the new information he had just received, he glares over at Hank and Connor at their desks. Oh, they were definitely fucking, alright, he’s sure of it now.

_Nasty._

 

* * *

 

They get another case a little over a week later, closing it in a few days at the DPD after dark. Gavin’s hungry and tired, ready to go home. It is then that he remembers that he hasn’t got a single damn thing to eat in his refrigerator except for some butter and a mouldy broccoli. He hadn’t had time to go grocery shopping the past week, busy with work. _Buy more frozen food next time_ , he makes a mental note to himself once outside, jangling his car keys as he leans against his car door, thinking about where to go eat for tonight.

“Hey Big Head, what’s still open for food now?”

Immediately, RK900 answers, LED yellow as he pulls up the information in his head, “There’s a 24/7 diner-cum-bar less than three kilometres from our location. Shall we check it out?”

“Who said you were invited?” Gavin says, already getting into his car and starting it up.

“Oh.”

“Ugh,” Gavin groans at how crestfallen RK900 looks. “Get the fuck in.”

RK900 says no more, getting into the passenger seat, glowing. He gives the directions to the diner, Gavin harrumphing at his every word.

“You’re going a little over the speed limit,” RK900 cautions.

Gavin drives faster.

They arrive at the diner in no time at all, traffic being practically non-existent at this time of the night. Gavin pulls into a parking spot hastily, his stomach growling angrily at him. Together they step into the place, an aura of authority about them with Gavin’s mean face and RK900’s grand stature. Gavin slides into a booth, RK900 doing the same opposite him, checking out the place.

It’s RK900’s first diner experience. The place is rather empty, several clusters of people peppered through the space. The lighting is cheery, checkered floor tiles polished to an impressive high gloss reflecting the light. The muted chatter of patrons as acoustic music plays from the jukebox at the end is pleasant to his audio processor. He likes it.

Gavin orders a garbage plate off the menu after skimming through all the choices it offers.

“That doesn’t sound very appetizing,” RK900 comments.

“Good thing you aren’t the one eating then,” Gavin replies just as a waitress brings a large plate heaped with calories to their table.

RK900 examines the food with genuine interest. It looks like…well…what one would find in a dumpster behind a fast food restaurant. He wonders how Gavin finds it appetizing.

Across the table, his partner is already scarfing down the food, digging in enthusiastically, cheeks puffed up as he pushes food into them to chew.

Somehow, the sight of that has RK900 likening it to the image of a hamster greedily shovelling grains into its pouch-like cheeks. The corners of his mouth tilt upwards subtly in amusement.

“Would you like a drink to go with your meal?” RK900 asks graciously. “The bar appears to have quite the assortment of drinks.”

Gavin looks up from his food. “Who do you think I am? Hank? I don’t drink. It’s a disgusting habit.”

“Not even the occasional drink?” RK900 probes.

Gavin curls his upper lip, getting annoyed. “No, it’s fucking disgusting.” In truth, the reason for him not being a drinker is because he’s really a lightweight. That had been a pain in the ass to explain to his friends when he was in his twenties. Now he’s older and doesn’t have any to explain himself to. And he’s definitely not telling a fucking android any of that. “I don’t smoke either.”

Yellow circles the ring of RK900’s LED.

“What, you judging me? Cyberlife installed a script in you saying that those are hallmarks of masculinity?” Gavin scoffs, rolling his eyes and aggressively shoving another forkful of his food into his mouth.

“You just seemed like the type,” RK900 shrugs.

“I like keeping my shit together,” Gavin says in between chewing, “I don’t plan on becoming some boozy mess of a cop like Hank.”

“Just one drink then,” RK900 pushes, reluctant to give up. “You should celebrate. We closed a case tonight, so there’s a reason.”

“I thought androids have amazing memory but I guess you’re fucked if you’ve forgotten that I’m _driving_.”

“I can drive you home,” RK900 offers earnestly.

Gavin chews suspiciously, three-quarters through his late dinner meal. “And then what? Stay in my car for the rest of the night until you freeload off me again to work in the morning?”

“No, I’ll walk home and see you at work the next day.”

Bursting into laughter, Gavin dabs at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. He shakes his head. “It’s past my bedtime. I also don’t want to spend more time here with you when I could be in bed dreaming in half an hour, happy that I didn’t spend money on shitty alcohol.”

“It’s on me.”

“Trying to butter me up, huh? Fuck off.”

But RK900’s look of amusement at his vehement rejection is pissing him off and Gavin hates feeling like the loser in this situation.

 _Oh, what the hell._ “Fine.” So he orders a shot from the bar. “Only one,” he tells RK900 with narrowed eyes.

He downs it and slams it on the table after while making a noise like his throat is detaching from his body. “Fucking nasty!” His face is scrunched up in disgust and RK900 smiles at the sight.

And then he orders another shot for Gavin. Buzzed from the first shot, Gavin’s inhibition is already fucked enough that he snatches up the next shot when it’s set down in front of him.

As soon as that shotglass is empty, another one appears at RK900’s behest. They do this several more times, RK900 cheering Gavin on all the while with praises of his detective work.

“I said _one_ shot, you fuck!” Gavin finally yells drunkenly in the diner, face flushed red and eyes glazed, even as he picks up an empty shotglass from the litter on the table, attaching his lips to its rim on autopilot now and sucking at air and alcoholic drops from the bottom of it.

“Okay, that’s enough,” RK900 says, prying the shotglass from Gavin’s fingers. He’s had his fun watching Gavin get absolutely shit-faced. Now it was time for the both of them to go home.

RK900 foots the bill, paying from where he stands as he props Gavin against him for support.

“Let’s get you home,” he says, and Gavin looks at him dopily, a crooked grin plastered upon his face.

“I can’t see your face anymore…that’s great,” he slurs, the reek of alcohol strong on his breath as RK900 drags him to the car. He finds the keys in Gavin’s back pocket and takes them, pushing the drunk into the passenger seat and buckling him in.

“Why the fuck…you touchin’ my ass…” Gavin mumbles, eyes already closing.

RK900 ignores him. He begins the drive to Gavin’s residence.

In the car, Gavin groans and rolls about, clutching at his bloated stomach every time RK900 makes a turn none-too-gently.

“I have to…go to work…gotta get there…in time…no...” Gavin whines, garbling some incoherent words after.

“It’s night time, Detective. We have finished our work for the day,” RK900 supplies helpfully but pointlessly.

Gavin burps grossly loud in response, too out of it to properly reply.

Pulling up into Gavin’s driveway, RK900 observes that it’s not a bad home for a bachelor, since Gavin is far from an eligible one. In fact, he doesn’t think that Gavin’s chances of ever getting a partner are very high. Based on his analysis of the detective so far (and even upon his first meeting with Gavin), RK900 could tell that Gavin doesn’t have the most desirable attitude around. He’s not sure what kind of human would be willing to tolerate him intimately.

He hauls Gavin out of the car and into his home, turning on the lights as they enter. Despite his drunken state, Gavin holds onto RK900 for dear life as he is carried towards his bathroom, hoisted easily upon the android’s shoulder.

“The ground’s so far away,” he slurs. Then he proceeds to vomit all over RK900’s back, the partially-dissolved chunks of his dinner saturated in alcohol sliding down the android’s broad back and his long legs to pool onto the floor.

 

* * *

 

Cleaned up with RK900’s help, Gavin is seated at the island of his kitchen to sober up with a glass of water. The lights have been dimmed after he complained about his irises burning.

He sips his water quietly, staring into nothing. RK900 watches him for a while, mostly just to ensure that Gavin doesn’t suddenly fall out of his chair and end up with a concussion. When he appears to be decently stable, at least from where he sits, RK900 makes to leave.

He doesn’t expect Gavin to have sobered up enough to hear the rustle of his clothes when he begins walking towards the front door, but apparently Gavin does hear him.

“No, stay.”

RK900 pauses, the tips of his ears twitching. This is new…this… _vulnerability_ in Gavin’s voice.

“I – I might need help getting into bed…” Gavin admits, swaying back and forth a little.

So RK900 stays, taking a seat next to him on one of the stools. They sit in silence, a rare occurrence when they’re together. RK900 runs all sorts of images and simulations through his head to entertain himself while Gavin proves his still-tipsy self to be rather boring company.

When he chances a glance at Gavin, the man appears to look almost…sad. And Gavin is. The high of the alcohol has worn down and left him feeling blue. He contemplates his life, his lack of friends.

“No one likes me, you know.”

RK900 looks at him, sensing that his attention is requested. Gavin’s eyes are glassy, his face still a warm salmon-pink, his hair messy from all that he’s gone through tonight. He looks oddly adorable, RK900 finds himself thinking as he says nothing in reply, waiting to see if Gavin will continue.

Gavin remains silent. He hangs his head instead, muffled snuffling suddenly coming from him. His shoulders tremble. RK900 watches, unsure of how he should respond. Liquid spots the counter slowly as the tears fall hot from Gavin’s eyes. He is crying. RK900’s LED whirrs red, and he reaches out hesitantly. At the last moment, he pulls his hand back.

Outside, the streets are quiet except for the hum of one or two autonomous vehicles passing by every now and then.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhh gavin finds himself with a not-bf bf?? kinda??????

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> painfully cliché ;))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) it's been a while since the first chapter but god let me tell u that it was a struggle and a half to write this. 
> 
> major art inspiration for cute 900gav is [don lemefo](https://twitter.com/donlemefo). HHHHHHHHHH their art is so fucking good i cri everytiem (they also give off such daddy dom vibes im ?? wow im a BABY SLUT) 
> 
> music inspo for this dumb fucking ship is Bleachers' entire [Strange Desire](https://open.spotify.com/album/0cnNCK2xpudXjB8pzsrYy9) album. the mood of it is truly a Mood™

_Tick. Tick._

Gavin wakes up naturally on instinct, his biological clock telling him that it’s time to get ready for work. Feeling like absolute shit as he sits up in bed, he rubs a hand over his face roughly again and again. He blinks blearily into the darkened room, his curtains pulled closed, sunlight barely struggling through. Something shadowy and large stands in the corner of his bedroom and his heart stops when he notices it, blood running cold, icy sweat prickling across his back.

An LED comes to life, a blue circle glowing. Grey eyes blink open at him. The shadow shifts. “Good morning, Detective Reed.”

“Oh, Jesus! Jesus, fuck!” Gavin curses at it.

RK900 steps out of the semi-darkness and goes to let in some sun, pulling open the bedroom curtains as Gavin takes in deep breaths and adjusts to the sudden influx of sunlight.

“You passed out last night in the kitchen and so I thought it appropriate to bring you to bed after. You would have still needed the rest, after all.”

“Shit,” Gavin stretches, kicking away his covers. He notices then that he is wearing nothing but his boxers. “What…? Did you undress me?”

“I wasn’t sure what you slept in but according to data I accessed online, it appears that the average American male is prone to either sleeping in the nude or in his underwear. I thought the latter option would have been more appropriate between me and you.”

Gavin looks at him suspiciously, shuffling his feet into his bedroom slippers. “You didn’t…molest me or anything…did you?”

“I can assure you that the thought has never crossed my mind before.”

“You saying I’m ugly?”

“You’re average,” RK900 replies, brutally honest.

Gavin grudgingly accepts his answer. He pulls his boxers higher onto his hipbones as he walks past RK900 to his bathroom. “Go wait in the fucking living room, why don’t you. You’re freaking me out standing around watching me and all that shit, fuck’s sake.” The bathroom door slams shut behind Gavin.

RK900 does as told, heading to the living room. In there, he rummages through Gavin’s belongings while waiting. Gavin had said to wait in the living room but he hadn’t said to not touch anything.

 

* * *

 

Gavin shaves his face with an old, too-blunt razor that causes more discomfort than it shaves off his scruff, but he likes the look he ends up with in the end anyway. Effortlessly cool. Despite the dark circles ringing his under-eyes, he smirks at his reflection in the steamy mirror after washing his face off, running his fingers over his thinner scruff.

Wrapped in a towel, he doesn’t spot RK900 as he heads back to his bedroom to change into his work clothes. He throws on one of the many grey V-necked shirts he has in his wardrobe and pulls on underwear and some old jeans he finds crumpled on the floor. After that, he does his hair up into his typical style with some pomade.

“You’re a pretty handsome guy, Gavin Reed,” he says, looking at his reflection again, pulling on his worn brown leather jacket. Hooking his detective badge upon his hip proudly, he stands, admiring himself in the mirror one last time. He finds his gun in its holster on his bedroom dresser and attaches that to the back of his jeans as his final step of getting dressed.

Walking out into the living room, he finally sees RK900, the android sitting politely on his couch.

“Let’s go,” he says after pouring himself a glass of water, gulping it down. He grabs his keys from the bowl on his dining table.

“Are you not eating breakfast?” RK900 questions as they head out the door.

“If you get to work early enough, there is always free food in the pantry,” Gavin says proudly as if he’s giving the android some sage advice.

On the drive to work, he keeps checking himself out in the rear-view mirror, RK900’s earlier comment about him being merely average still niggling at him.

“By the way, I’m a decent-looking fellow. I mean, you’d fuck this, right?” Gavin gestures to himself as he steers, blissfully unaware of what RK900’s answer to that question may imply. He’s too full of himself to realize it.

RK900, on the other hand, catches its hint of danger, pressing his lips together as he carefully considers his reply. “I’m not sure how you want me to answer,” he finally admits.

“You’re a useless partner.”

“I’ll try better next time.”

They beat the morning traffic easily, Gavin accustomed to its pattern and their route enough to know the shortcuts. When they enter the office, several janitorial androids are still cleaning up the place with mops and damp cloths. As they go to their desks, Miller is already at his, munching away at something from the pantry. He’s probably the only person in the DPD who can still smile genuinely at Gavin, and Gavin doesn’t find him half-bad either, though the man could be a little annoying sometimes.

Like this morning, where he swivels around to watch the detective duo walk in and smiles cheekily at Gavin. “Brought your android home, eh, Reed?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Gavin replies without any real heat, setting down his bag before heading for the pantry connected to the break room.

Another officer passes him, commenting light-heartedly, “You look like shit.”

“You, too,” Gavin rolls his eyes amusedly.

 

* * *

 

It isn’t until noon that Gavin notices RK900’s missing jacket. The android is at his desk in his fitted black undershirt with the high closed collar, typing away on his keyboard. Gavin would never tell him so but he thinks RK900 looks much better without that silly stiff jacket of his.

Annoyed over the fact that he can even _think_ RK900 looks good, he asks snappily, “Where’s your jacket?”

RK900 gives him a look. “I took it off and put it in your washing machine last night. It wasn’t dry yet this morning.”

Gavin frowns. “What?”

“You vomited onto it last night, Detective. It had to be washed immediately,” RK900 pauses, “Along with my pants.”

“But you’re wearing pants…aren’t you?”

“I borrowed a pair of yours,” the android smiles sweetly.

“Fuck. This is why I don’t drink. Drunks only make idiots of themselves,” Gavin grits out, embarrassed. He can’t even be mad at RK900 for using his washing machine without asking. Then he thinks about it a little more. Deduces that RK900 _is_ in fact to blame for the entire thing, seeing as how he was the one who had gotten Gavin drunk in the first place.

After that, Gavin sulks and doesn’t say another word to RK900 for the rest of the day, leaving the android to wonder what he did wrong this time. The fact that Gavin later notices how great RK900’s ass looks in _his_ jeans only makes him pull an even longer face. They’re a little smaller on the android’s frame and therefore _tighter_ , accentuating…everything. Gavin growls lowly, eyebrows drawn together furiously.

Trying to not think about RK900 jacketless and wearing his jeans, he makes himself do some work on his desktop rather aggressively, drinking as many cups of coffee as needed to pull him through the rest of the dreary workday. He takes long breaks every now and then which he spends playing with his phone, feet up on his desk again.

In the evening, the officers of the DPD start chatting about heading out for drinks since it’s Friday. Gavin pretends that he’s not listening in on their chatter, but RK900 notices Gavin’s ears twitching. As always, he later leaves without a goodbye when his shift is over, going home to spend the night alone. Just the way he likes it.

 

* * *

 

On the weekends, Gavin’s biological clock doesn’t wake him up until well past noon, at which he will awaken from his deep slumber to look for junk in his fridge to put into his mouth.

Imagine his displeasured surprise when the doorbell rings aggravatingly at 10:00 AM that Saturday, disturbing his sleep. No one ever comes by on a Saturday morning. Rolling over in bed, Gavin has half a mind to ignore whoever it is outside, but the damn doorbell just keeps ringing and ringing.

“Fuck!” he shouts, sitting up and punching his pillow in irritation. He gets out of bed and stomps to his front door, wearing nothing but his boxers and a ratty T-shirt. He throws it open and guess who he fucking finds standing there.

RK900, looking prim and proper like he always does. “Good morning, Detective Reed,” he smiles.

“You asshole,” Gavin seethes, eyes narrowed at the android, “Do you know what fucking time it is?”

“It’s 10:04 AM on a Saturday,” RK900 replies smoothly.

Gavin’s grip on the door tightens, his jaw clenching. “The fuck are you here for? I was still sleeping!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” RK900 says, not sorry at all. “I’ve come to collect my jacket and pants.”

_“Come to collect my jacket and pants,”_ Gavin mimics in a mocking tone under his breath, “Bitch.”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said, come in,” Gavin steps away from the door, letting RK900 in. 

RK900 strides immediately towards the island in the kitchen, and only then does Gavin notice that he’s carrying a bag of something in his hand. “I brought you a peace offering. Food. I figured that you might not have anything particularly filling or healthy for your first meal of the day.”

Gavin pads over after locking the front door, peering into the bag to examine its contents. Fresh sushi and some O’Mansley donuts. He can’t be too pissed off anymore. RK900 smiles as he watches Gavin’s expression soften.

“You should eat the sushi fast, before it starts going bad,” RK900 advises.

Gavin scowls. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he says as he takes a seat by the island and lifts the sushi out of the bag. “Your clothes are somewhere in my wardrobe, I’m pretty sure I threw them in there with the rest of my clean laundry last night.”

RK900 takes that as an invitation to go searching for his clothes on his own and heads off for the bedroom, its door still open from when Gavin had exited. He enters, stepping slowly into the room.

It’s not the neatest room RK900 has seen but he isn’t too bothered by it (yet), walking past the bed with its rumpled sheets to open up Gavin’s wardrobe. The door slides open smoothly, and in plain sight before him lies what appears to be sex toys amongst unfolded clean laundry. RK900 tilts his head, blinking curiously at the objects before kneeling to pick one of them up. He scans it, his jacket and pants in the back of his mind now. The conclusion of his scan tells him that it’s a clean Fleshlight moulded after a biological female’s sex.

_Interesting._ He puts it back down, picking up the other sex toy, a dildo this time. RK900 turns the dildo over in his hands, scanning it and noting down information in his head. _7.5 inches in length, 4.6 centimetres in girth_.

RK900 smirks. He’s bigger in both measurements.

Placing the dildo back down next to the Fleshlight, he finds his jacket and pants in the pile of clothing, draping them over his lap when he decides to fold the rest of Gavin’s laundry. For no reason at all, really. He just feels bothered by the out-of-place mess that is the pile of clothes in the otherwise relatively-organized wardrobe. In the time that he spends by the wardrobe, clothes are folded, some are hung on hangers, and the sex toys are stored in one of the wardrobe drawers.

He stands when done, admiring his work. Then he turns and is faced by the rest of the room.

 

* * *

 

Gavin’s finished his sushi and has moved onto the donuts now, munching happily on a ring as he fiddles with his phone.

It’s been well over twenty minutes since RK900 has entered his bedroom. He wonders why it’s taking the android so long just to grab his stuff. Gavin decides to investigate, sliding off his barstool and padding over to the bedroom quietly, peeking in at the doorway.

RK900 is standing by his bed, flapping out his sheets. His pillows have been arranged perfectly by the top of the bed and not strewn all over and on the floor. Gavin’s eyebrows rise at the sight. The android has cleaned up his room, sleeves rolled up his forearms to just below his elbows, collar unbuttoned.

Gavin makes his presence known then, leaning against the doorway and chewing on his donut noisily. “Hmm, what do we have here? Didn’t know you were a housekeeping model.”

RK900 looks up from his work of straightening out Gavin’s sheets. “I couldn’t help but be bothered by the mess that is your bedroom, Detective.”

“You came to collect your clothes, not analyse my shit. This isn’t a crime scene, it’s my home.”

“Well, I’m done here, anyway.” RK900 stands properly, rolling his sleeves back down and buttoning up his shirt before pulling on his jacket. His pants draped over his forearm, he makes his way towards the doorway, towards Gavin.

Expecting the android to just brush past him and walk out, Gavin takes another bite of his donut silently. But instead of doing as he expected, RK900 stops before Gavin, catching the man by surprise when he suddenly reaches out and swipes a finger over the corner of Gavin’s mouth. He brings his finger to his own mouth after, licking at the smudged pink on the pad of it. “Strawberry-flavoured glaze.”

Gavin jerks away from him, shocked. “What the…” he mutters and trails off, turning his head to follow RK900’s steps out of the room as the android pushes past him.

“See you at the office on Monday, Detective Reed. In the meantime,” RK900 twirls back for a moment, walking backwards towards the front door, “Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

RK900 winks at him and then he is gone, the front door shutting.

Gavin takes a hard chomp out of his donut, teeth clacking together.

 

* * *

 

On Monday, RK900 acts the way he usually does in the office. He keeps to himself, speaking to Gavin only about work, holding a rather serious expression on his face all day.

Gavin eyes him suspiciously from across their desks.

“What is it, Detective Reed?” RK900 sighs, fingers pausing in his typing as he looks up at Gavin.

“I didn’t say nothing.”

“Right.” RK900 gives him an odd look, returning his attention back to his work.

After lunch, Gavin goes to the restroom to take a piss. He’s standing in front of his urinal of choice and unzipping his pants when the restroom door squeaks open. Sharp footsteps clack across the floor, coming to a stop a distance behind Gavin.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” Gavin asks, the sound of his piss echoing loudly through the tiled space.

When RK900 doesn’t reply, Gavin closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath, nostrils flaring. “You got a fucking piss kink or something?”

“No, I thought that this would be an opportune time to catch you alone.”

“Oh, yeah? What you got planned for me?” Gavin smirks as he zips up and flushes the urinal, turning and heading straight for the sinks without a look in the android’s direction. He washes his hands with more force than necessary, scrubbing at his skin raw with the foamy soap.

“I just thought that you wouldn’t want the rest of the office to get the wrong idea when I returned your jeans.” RK900 appears by his side, meeting his eyes through the mirror, Gavin’s jeans in his hands. “They’re washed.”

Shutting off the tap and wringing his hands before sticking them under the dryer, Gavin raises an eyebrow. “What wrong idea?”

RK900 doesn’t break their eye contact as he closes the distance between them, standing a little too close behind Gavin. Gavin freezes, the dryer still blowing hot air on his hands.

“Haven’t you noticed? People are thinking that there’s something going on between us.” RK900’s voice is low and the hairs on Gavin’s nape stand when he feels RK900’s breath on his skin.

Gavin whirls around, shoving RK900 away, hands thrusting against his chest. The android barely staggers backwards.

“It’s all in your big head. There’s _nothing_ going on between us, and whoever thinks any different can go fuck themselves.”

RK900 holds out his jeans. “Then maybe you and I need to spend some time in private with ourselves.”

Gavin snatches them back, clutching the jeans to his chest as he watches RK900 leave the bathroom casually. “Fuck you,” he calls out, his blood boiling and ears burning from humiliation. His insult is ignored.

For the rest of the week, the atmosphere between two in the office remains tense.

 

* * *

 

The following Saturday morning, Gavin’s doorbell rings incessantly.

A long and loud yell of _fuck_ can be heard from outside. RK900 smiles to himself by the front of Gavin’s door, jabbing his finger into the doorbell again.

“– damn it!” The door flies open, a rumpled Gavin standing before him.

“Good morning, Detective Reed.” This time, RK900 does not wait for an invitation in before he’s making his way to the kitchen again.

“I’m going to file a report against you,” Gavin snaps, shutting the front door and rubbing at his eyes as he goes towards RK900.

“Even though I brought you breakfast?” RK900 smiles brightly at him, holding up a bag of food.

Gavin takes it from him, making a sour face. “Don’t you dare make this a regular thing, Big Head.”

RK900 shrugs. “I’m just doing what friends do.”

“We’re not –”

“I’d like us to be friends. It can only improve our current partnership. I’d like to apologize for what I said in the office restroom on Monday, for a start. It was out of line for me.” RK900 extends a hand.

Eyeing RK900’s hand reluctantly, Gavin asks, “What _was_ that?”

“I was just teasing you,” RK900 shrugs again, thrusting his hand towards Gavin again.

Gavin reaches out slowly and shakes it.

“Friends,” RK900 grins.

It’s weird seeing the android grin, and Gavin pulls his hand back, shaking it off. “Whatever.”

As he unpacks the food, the android watches him for a while before smoothing down his clothes. “I should take my leave now. I have some things to do.”

“How productive of you,” Gavin comments drily, opening the containers up to grilled sausages and an omelette. He hates to admit it, but RK900 appears to know what types of food Gavin would be partial to. Though the breakfasts that he had brought around both times _had_ been significantly healthier than what Gavin would normally eat.

“See you later, Detective Reed.” RK900’s already at the door.

“Wait, what do you mean, _see you later?”_ Gavin turns, narrowing his eyes at RK900.

Opening the door, RK900 halts. “See you later,” he simply repeats with a small smirk, shutting the door after him.

 

* * *

 

That night, in the middle of Gavin watching television and thinking about what he should order for dinner, the doorbell rings.

“Who the fuck is it now?” he grumbles as he goes to the door, peeking out of the peephole. Upon seeing who it is, he backs away from the door, shaking his head. “Nope, nope. _Nope._ ”

He goes back to the couch, curling up on it and covering himself with cushions. There is a momentary silence aside from the hum of the television at a low volume.

Then –

_Tap. Tap._

Just like in the horror movies.

Someone emanating a blue glow stands in the dark outside of his window that looks into his living room. They’re tapping at his window with a fingernail, wanting to be let in. Gavin watches the silhouette from the corner of his eyes, hugging his cushions to himself harder.

“Detective Reed, it’s me,” the silhouette says, muffled through the glass, waving at him.

“Go away,” Gavin replies, turning the other way so he doesn’t have to look at it.

“I brought you dinner.”

Gavin hesitates, chewing at his lower lip. His stomach growls hungrily. “God fucking damn it.” His appetite makes him stand and walk to the door, unlocking it and opening it up for the android.

“Hello, Detective,” RK900 greets him, another bag of food in his hand, a backpack in his other.

He’s brought pasta for Gavin. They sit together at the dinner table, RK900 with his backpack in his lap as he watches Gavin eat his dinner, pleased.

“Stop staring, you freak. What are you doing here? Terrorizing me once a day not enough fun for you anymore?” Gavin glares at him, shoving a forkful of pasta into his mouth.

“No. I was thinking that since we’re now friends, we can have sleepovers. That’s what friends do, right?” RK900 asks him earnestly.

“You really don’t have any friends, do you?” Stabbing at a mushroom, Gavin snickers.

Bluntly honest, RK900 doesn’t even blink when he verbally hits back at Gavin, “Neither do you. Which is why we need to stick together.”

Gavin glares at him again. Glares at the backpack, too. “You know, typically, when people want to have sleepovers, they’ll ask for permission first from _the person whose house the sleepover will be held in_ ,” Gavin grinds out.

“We can have the sleepover at my place, if you don’t want me intruding here.”

“That’s not –” Gavin stops and sighs, setting his fork down with a clink. He doesn’t know if RK900 is really that oblivious or if he’s just trying to piss him off. “Listen. I don’t want you here, not anywhere near me. I don’t want to be with you.”

“…Oh.”

“Yeah.” Gavin picks his fork back up and stabs at a meatball.

An uncomfortable silence inflates in the modest space, so much so that Gavin starts to feel suffocated as he tries to eat with RK900 opposite him giving a downcast look at the wood grain of his table.

“Argh, fucking hell. Fine, stay if you want to. But this won’t be a very fun sleepover. If you had any expectations for it at all, you should get rid of them,” Gavin advises, waving his fork at RK900, whose expression has already brightened.

The android sits up straighter in his seat, grey eyes shining. “What do we do first?”

“Whoa, calm down. Let me finish my dinner first, Jesus. Why don’t you go and, I dunno, watch some fucking TV or whatever. I’m starting to feel sick trying to eat with you staring at me the whole time.”

RK900 leaves the table, doing as told. Gavin joins him on the couch some minutes later after dumping his dirty plate into the sink, scooting all the way to the opposite end of the seat. He’d like to sit as far away from the android as possible, thank you. They’re not a couple planning to cuddle while watching some shows.

He is aware that for the next few hours RK900 keeps throwing expectant glances his way. He tries to ignore them for the most part, until RK900 starts adding little sighs at the end of each lingering glance.

“What is it?” Gavin eventually asks, tired of his antics.

“Is this really what a sleepover is?”

“Well, we haven’t gotten to the sleeping part of it yet, so maybe that’ll be more fun, eh?”

RK900 twists his torso towards Gavin, slinging an arm across the back of the couch. He crosses his legs. “I thought sleepovers were for people to giggle and gossip about stuff until dawn breaks. Not about sitting in silence to eventually actually go to sleep later.”

“If you’re a girl in middle school hanging out with other middle school girls then yeah you’d be giggling and gossiping until you pass out,” Gavin snickers. “First things first though – do you even sleep?”

“I can mimic it. Rest can be beneficial for an android.”

Gavin gives a bark of laughter, pretending to wipe at a tear in his eye. “Well, isn’t that something. Okay, so you wanna talk. Whatever shall we talk about, Big Head?”

“How about you tell me about yourself, Detective?”

“How about I _don’t._ I don’t know what you’re planning to do with any data you collect about me, but I’m not falling for that trick.” Crossing his arms across his chest, Gavin turns his nose up at RK900.

RK900 sighs, shaking his head. “It’s not a trick. I’m genuinely interested in getting to know you.”

“Yeah, sure. Too bad that it’s getting late and I’m getting tired. This has been real fun but my mum says I have to sleep now.” Gavin stands and throws the cushion in his hands back onto the couch, stretching after. “Where are _you_ going to sleep?”

RK900 looks around and shrugs. “On the couch, I guess. You probably wouldn’t want to share your bed with me, I suppose.”

All he gets in reply is a guffaw that trails all the way to Gavin’s bedroom until the door is shut. Left alone in the living room, RK900 piles the cushions up against one end of the couch and lies down stiffly. His legs stick out a little too much from the far edge of the seat but there’s nothing to be done about that.

 

* * *

 

“Share a bed with me,” Gavin scoffs as he messes up his sheets into a small nest that he will curl up comfortably in. He tumbles into it when it’s fluffy enough, grabbing a pillow to hug against him. Shuts his eyes tight and tries to fall asleep. However, try as he might, he just can’t stop thinking about the image of RK900 sharing a bed with him. He tosses and turns for a long while.

Outside in the living room, RK900 lies in the same position he had taken on the couch an hour earlier, eyes closed, LED blue.

A noise disturbs his rest, making his eyebrows draw together slowly as his eyelids flutter open. He lifts his head slightly, ears perking up to focus on the noise better. It’s Gavin. And it sounds like he’s in distress. Immediately an objective flashes in RK900’s mind.

_Protect him._

Fast as a flash of lightning, RK900 bursts through the door of Gavin’s bedroom, LED blinking red. He expects to have to fight an intruder or give first aid to Gavin. What he does not expect is to see Gavin naked in bed, pleasuring himself in the dark.

The detective hadn’t had enough time to cover himself decently, caught off-guard by the suddenness of RK900’s appearance. Gavin yelps, hastily dragging his blanket over his body now, glaring at the android.

Rather scandalized, RK900 stands frozen in the doorway, the light from the hallway shining in, illuminating the scene before him.

Gavin starts yelling obscenities at him. A whole dictionary of swear words gets unloaded upon RK900’s head.

He ignores the insults, approaching Gavin instead. Interrupts Gavin mid-curse. He stops by the edge of Gavin’s bed, looming over him. Gavin scrambles up his bed, grabbing and hugging every inch of blanket and all the pillows that he can reach for as he glares up at RK900.

“I thought you were in pain.” RK900 says it in a rather betrayed tone.

“Well, now you know I’m not,” Gavin snaps. His boner really should be dying off from his displeasure of RK900 barging in on him, but it isn’t. It remains as stiff as ever under the covers and pillows, pissing Gavin off even more.

“Yeah, now I know you’re not,” RK900 echoes him, not making any move to leave. He stares straight into Gavin’s annoyed eyes.

“Can you just fucking go,” Gavin grates out, making it clear that RK900 is not welcome in here at this very moment.

RK900 pauses as if to think for a bit. “After you answer my question.”

Gavin growls. “I don’t fucking need to answer any stupid questions of yours. Get the hell out.”

“Detective, I could hold you down right now and force any answers I want out of you easily. Lucky for you, I’m not that kind of person. Just cooperate and answer this one question of mine, and I will leave you alone after that.”

Oh _fuck_. Gavin knows he’s dirtying his sheets right now, hating that his body is responding so positively to the image that RK900’s threat puts in his head. “Fucking Christ. You’re the worst android I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing. Spit it out.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a certain tension surrounding us all the time now. I’d like to ignore it if I could. Unfortunately, it is not in my nature to do so. I was built for confrontation. So please do tell me – what do you suppose we should do about this tension?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yeah, hit him with that denial. That’ll work. Gavin almost rolls his eyes at himself.

“I can scan your body language easily, Detective. And it’s giving me very interesting signals. How much longer will you lie to me?”

_Fucking cop android._ “You said one question.”

“And you have yet to answer a single one.”

Gavin hits the back of his head against the headboard frustratedly. “I don’t know what to fucking do about it, okay? I’m perfectly happy ignoring it until it dies off.”

“Didn’t seem like you were ignoring it earlier,” RK900 says. Gavin narrows his eyes at him when the android has the cheek to smirk after that.

“Oh, what a smartass. Since you’re so smart, what do you think should be done then?”

“May I propose the concept of ‘friends with benefits’?”

“No fucking way. No. I don’t fuck co-workers.”

“I’m not just any co-worker, though. I’m your partner.”

Gavin sticks his lower lip out. “Same shit. Enough. I said no, and that’s the end of this conversation. Get out.”

“Alright then,” RK900 concedes, raising both hands in defeat and taking a step backwards.

Before he can walk out, Gavin calls out, “You’re such a fucking bastard, you know.”

“Why, thank you,” RK900 turns back to him and smiles, placing a hand on his chest and bowing gracefully before exiting Gavin’s room and shutting the door behind him.

He can hear Gavin still yelling the foulest of things even when he returns to the living room and lies back down on the couch, closing his eyes once more, a content smile on his lips.

 

* * *

 

Gavin wakes up the next morning groggy and angry. And with morning wood to boot. What a great goddamn start to his day. He doesn’t want to get out of bed at all, not even to pee. He’s not ready to face the android that haunts him in his dreams and outside of them, too.

The urge to pee soon overwhelms all else, woefully, and he has to get up and rush to the bathroom to try and pee without hissing in discomfort. As he’s attempting to manoeuvre himself around so as not to spray piss all over his bathroom, he notices that the bathtub is wet.

“What in the world…”

He thankfully manages to pee some ten minutes later after waiting, hopping around in desperation. He goes straight into the shower when he’s done, brushing his teeth after emerging from it.

Back in his bedroom, he dresses casually in some shorts and a shirt full of holes. He’s not out to impress anyone.

There is some clinking coming from elsewhere in the house and he’s curious about what it is that RK900 could be doing outside.

Gavin walks out quietly once he’s dressed, his damp hair beginning to get fluffy as it air-dries. He’s not sure what he had anticipated upon entering the kitchen, but he knows that he absolutely had _not_ anticipated walking into the kitchen to find a nude android cooking breakfast.

He stops dead in his tracks, eyes wide. “What the _fuck_!”

RK900 turns his head in greeting as he continues agitating the eggs in his pan. He wears an old apron tied sideways around his bottom half like a skirt. The sight of that makes Gavin want to die. “Good morning, Detective Reed. I’m just making some breakfast for you.”

Gavin takes a seat heavily in one of the chairs at the dining table, hanging his head and rubbing at his eyes wearily. “Why are you naked?” he sighs. RK900 truly is going to be the death of him, he swears.

“I took a shower earlier and didn’t have a towel with me, so I decided to dry off naturally. The apron is for decency’s sake,” RK900 smiles, turning off the stove.

There is absolutely nothing decent about RK900’s state of nudity, especially not when Gavin can see the artificial muscles in his back and arms being pulled taut as he reaches up to grab a plate for Gavin from the overhead cabinets.

“I didn’t know androids needed to shower,” Gavin states, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“We don’t necessarily need to shower since we don’t have any natural body odour, though I personally sometimes do it after spending time in ah, questionable places,” RK900 says, clearly insinuating that he thinks Gavin’s couch is absolutely filthy. He scoops the scrambled eggs into the plate and pulls open a drawer, looking for a fork.

“You motherfucker.”

“Don’t worry, I brought my own toiletries.” RK900 gives him another brazen smile as he sets Gavin’s breakfast down before him. “I think I should be dry enough now. I’ll go get dressed.”

Gavin watches him go and as he does, he’s pretty sure that there’s a pronounced strut in addition to RK900’s normal gait. _Oh, that son of a bitch._

 

* * *

 

RK900 leaves after getting dressed. He tries to say something more to Gavin before he goes, but Gavin has had enough of him to last a lifetime. He shuts the door in the android’s face and proceeds to wash his plate noisily so he can drown out whatever RK900 is trying to say to him through the door.

Alas, he can still make out a “See you on Monday, Detective Reed!” It makes him bite his lip so hard it almost breaks skin.

Gavin manages to not think about RK900 for the rest of his Sunday, at least until nightfall. When he climbs into bed that night, his mind wanders to Saturday night.

“Fucking hell,” he snarls, annoyed with himself more than anything else that he’s responding to those memories again. _“Friends with benefits,_ what a joke, we’re barely even friends.”

He hates that he still has to break out his trustworthy sex toys and go to town with himself while RK900’s big head keeps smirking and smiling at him in his thoughts. He does thankfully sleep like the dead, however, after exhausting himself. No dreams _and_ he wakes up rather refreshed.

Though later at work his mood sours upon spotting RK900. Gavin tries his best to avoid making eye contact and conversation with him. It’s not a very wise thing to do as they actually have work that needs to be discussed and done.

Understandably, RK900 later corners him in the break room when no one else is nearby.

“Avoiding me, Detective?”

“And what if I am?”

RK900 leans his hip against the counter and crosses his arms as he watches Gavin make his coffee. “You’re still so tense. I sense you need relief.”

“I need relief from you, yeah. You’re always bugging me, fuck. Move, I need a spoon.”

Stepping away momentarily to open the drawer, RK900 gets the teaspoon for him. “My offer still stands, you know.”

Gavin snatches it out of his fingers without thanks. “My answer is _still_ no.”

Shrugging, RK900 leaves him be.

For each day of the remaining week, however, he brings up his offer repeatedly. Never pushing too hard, just always casually suggesting it to Gavin and letting the idea of them being together simmer in the detective’s brain. It’s slowly working, Gavin having to go home and deal with his horny self night after night, fucking himself to thoughts of RK900. He knows he’s in deep shit when he finds himself wondering one night if RK900 is doing the same in his own home, pleasuring himself to Gavin.

Finally, on Friday evening, Gavin gives in. He hangs his head in shame. He had been so close to completing the week without falling for RK900’s devious plan.

“We can try it _once._ If the experience sucks, you will resign from the DPD and never look at or speak to me ever again, understand?”

RK900 completely ignores the latter part of his agreement, eyes shining as he asks, “Can we try the sleepover again?”

Gavin gives him a look as he packs his stuff up. _“That’s_ what you’re most excited about? Man, your Social Relations program is awful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is pretty much filler to me. still important to whatever plot i pretend i have going on, but the stuff i'm truly excited to write comes in the rest of the chapters.
> 
> i also need to stop making my chapters so damn long, it makes me suffer so much. i'll tone down the number of words for the following chapters but i PROMISE you the quality will remain ok? 
> 
> ok.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 notes:  
> it's uncharacteristically sweet of me to write a fic like this if you've read my other D:BH stuff before lol (the graphic violence tag is only really for the suicide case so calm down, no one else will die here). i'm putting all my need for cute fluff and shit into this fic since i couldn't do that with my completed kamcon fic which if you haven't read yet, do check it out if you wanna see something on kind of the opposite end of the spectrum from the dynamic of this fic. My kamcon fic is [God Loves You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14905523/chapters/34523858) (21,516 words, Rated E).
> 
> also about this fic, i DO NOT KNOW how to write an intriguing crime scene or case etc so please forgive me if you thought it was terrible dfjfgjhkhk i only watch Brooklyn 99 and that's the extent of my knowledge on cops and crime AHAHAHAHA. the crime was also really just meant to be filler but somehow i worked it around to be plot yey. ALSO this fic is pretty much a dumping ground for my gavin hcs which are basically "he likes to act like a Bad Boy but he's really a Good Boy who doesn't drink or smoke, has a pretty strict bedtime curfew when he can make it, and also gets to work and crime scenes on time always (his disciplinary record is pretty clean which is why he doesn't want fowler writing anything in it dfhgfjh)" i'm moronsexual bye


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